


swan

by geniewish



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Ballet, Body Worship, Coming In Pants, Crying, Degradation, Dom/sub, F/M, Foot Jobs, Mild Pain Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Sub Im Changkyun | I.M, an ode to hyungwon legs, ballerina dodo, basically kyun is in love w dodo n accidentally got horny n dodo likes to make him cry, chae dodo - Freeform, dom hyungwon/dodo, except its pointe shoe, or generally just dodo worship, pussy eating through clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewish/pseuds/geniewish
Summary: “Correct me if I’m wrong, Changkyun,” Dodo takes a step forward, tall, poised, her ballerina legs pacing widely, “but you just got hard,” she emphasises every word with cold clarity, and every sound and syllable escaping her mouth cuts an incision in Changkyun’s taffy heart, “while watching me dance on stage,” her arms cross in front of her chest, “in a swan tutu?”
Relationships: Chae Hyungwon/Im Changkyun | I.M, Changkyun/Dodo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	swan

**Author's Note:**

> couple of months later i suddenly remembered this existed so i decided to finish it but what i tried to achieve w this i dont know
> 
> warning:  
> \- established relationship = boundaries etc etc she knows what shes doing n how he likes it  
> \- this dodo is kinda based more on actual dodo rather than hyungwon except for like the beginning lol  
> \- i think i oversimplified the ballerina costume for this one so its easier to operate but idk
> 
> let me know if u need anything else tagged!!
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

In the gloomy blue light of the stage, Dodo shines like a diamond among the sea of topazes. They are white swans – beautiful, sorrowful, feathery creatures, flittering across the stage with tearful grace and subtle agony, their boneless arms moving like the wings, their curved feet barely touching the ground, and yet Changkyun’s eyes are only on her.

On the princess of the swan lake. On the prima ballerina. On the most gorgeous woman in the entire theatre and probably this entire country and probably this entire universe. 

His eyes are on Dodo, the worldwide star of ballet whose boyfriend he just so luckily happens to be. 

And how could he believe his luck. On stage, her beautiful blue-rimmed eyes are glimmering with despair, and her thin bare arms are working restlessly in dignified laments, fluttering but unable to escape or fly away, brought down by the monster that vows in twitching anger to claim her as his own forever. On stage, she is trapped by her own sorrow, a bird in a cage she wants to break free from to be with the one she truly loves. On stage, she is Odette, and in a beautiful pas de deux she seals the promise with a kiss on the lips of her one true love, Siegfried, who paces around the stage in his deliciously thin, white tights, and––

Dodo will hate him so much for not focusing on the actual story. 

Well, for that matter, Kihyun, who plays the bad guy, Von Rothbard, creepy owl guy who wants to possess Odette and kill the prince, is also pretty hot with his little horns and curved grey nose and gothic eye makeup. But Changkyun promised Dodo to watch the ballet carefully and recite everything he saw, down to the magical turn of the white swan into the black swan (played by Dodo, of course), and the magnificent assembly of swans dancing in inhumanly precise harmony with each other.

Dodo will want to hear it all, and Changkyun can only focus on the way her white feathery tutu bounces as she poisedly runs towards the back of the stage.

Changkyun watches and wonders. About the sheer strength in her slim wiry legs, about the shadowed dips of her straight collarbones, about the tendons in her long-long neck and fragile balls of her wrists. He wonders about her pointe shoes, and her white tights clinging to her like second skin, and the flexible bodice of her swan costume, revealing the expanse of her thin back and framing her very flat chest just so nicely. 

Her luscious brown hair is tied into a tight bun beneath the feathery headband, a tiny-tiny silver crown is perched on top of her head, speaking for the whole world to hear about Dodo’s royal nature.

When she elegantly jumps into Kihyun’s arms, her tutu bounces, and Changkyun thinks about the villain's charred claws on the princess’s marble white thighs. 

And her exquisite arms, they keep moving, keep fluttering, keep trying to get the beautiful swan away from all evil and right into Changkyun’s arms. 

That is, after she falls into Hyunwoo’s arms first, the real prince of the story. 

They are performing the happier version of the ballet, the romance-washed Russian version where the prince defeats the villain and saves Odette, and they live happily ever after, and she is a beautiful woman for the rest of her life. Famous Tchaikovsky composition plays throughout the finale, and Dodo and Hyunwoo wrap their arms around each other and look up into the sky, her leg straightened back in a perfect form, her spine arched, her lips full with a dramatic smile, and Hyunwoo stands tall (gorgeous and hot) behind her.

When the curtains fall, Changkyun is the first one to stand up. He is in the front row on the opening night of the season, and he has found himself crying, so, so immensely proud of his girlfriend’s success. 

The audience applauds and bravos, as they should, because even if Changkyun doesn’t know much about ballet in terms of technicality, no one has taken away his eye for aesthetics. And he knows – Dodo is the queen today, as she is the queen every single day, as she will continue to be the queen for the whole history of humanity. And there is a very, very solid reason why she is a prima. 

The dancers bow on stage hand in hand, huge smiles on their faces, and Dodo’s shines the brightest. She is radiant in the yellow lighting, still sparkling like a diamond, her skin crystal, her teeth pearly, her eyes obsidian — the stuff of legends. Changkyun watches her through a veil of tears, eyes and heart swelling with pride and adoration and dire desire to have her in his arms, or maybe have himself in her arms, in her long featherless wings.

Have her silky palm stroke his cheek. Have her velvety lips kiss his forehead. Have her magnificent, captivating legs in his sight so he could admire them for hours. And he _could_ watch them work for hours, he could sit on the floor tied-up and gagged and silently admire her stretching her limbs, bouncing on her pointe shoes like a pixie, swirling on the very tips of her toes like an elegant little tornado, flexing her lean tight muscles and creating art with her body no other human could imagine doing. 

She is a masterpiece, a Michelangelo’s statue, a Da Vinci painting, and right now she is leaving the stage for good as Changkyun is still in his trance clapping and watching the curtains fall one last time.

Oh, to be fully at his sweaty Dodo’s will. His elastic birdy girlfriend. His actual princess. 

Changkyun picks up the bouquet of blood-red roses he bought on a whim, exits the parterre and uselessly glances around the theatre lobby, lost in the crowd of people picking their coats or rushing to the bathroom. He sends Dodo a text, notifying her about his successful escape from the auditorium and congratulating her on her extraordinary opening night. 

She says Dior will go get him in a second. 

She leaves it up to Changkyun to find the secret door leading him backstage for personnel. How typical of her. How typical of Changkyun to want to prove that he can do it. 

He finds a security guard guarding the door somewhat close to where the backstage is, and he looms around for a few moments, waiting for Dior to come out, which she doesn’t, and the guard is already giving him weird looks. 

“Someone will come and take me backstage,” Changkyun says to the man, smiling lightly. “My girlfriend works here.”

The guard only manages to raise one eyebrow in the air before Dior comes banging through the door and grins with all her one hundred teeth.

“Kyunnie-Goonie, come here, you silly baby,” she exclaims, squealing with excitement after her opening night, and Changkyun can’t help but smile wider. She is still wearing the costume, and she is very-very pretty up close in all her glimmering makeup and a sheen of crystal sweat on her skin and her rosy blush. Her pointe shoes are off, she is letting her feet rest in warm-up fluffy booties. Dodo owns about ten of those. 

Changkyun hops towards her as Dior mutters to the guard that this little weirdo is with her, and she immediately grabs him by the hand and drags him inside. 

“You were amazing today, I’ve no words,” Changkyun says, stunned. Dior’s tutu bounces with her cheerful steps. 

“Thanks,” she singsongs, carelessly leading him down a dark corridor, across the backstage, down a dim-lit corridor with buzzing dressing rooms and finally towards a single white door to Dodo’s own dressing room.

She is the prima, she gets her own room because she is just so cool like that. 

“Dodo, babe,” Dior calls and knocks, and excitement starts bubbling at the core of Changkyun’s being. Any second now his desperate daydreams might be fulfilled. 

Dodo swings the door open with graceful strength, and as she stands before them, the light behind her illuminates her swan-like outline, the curves of her bare shoulders, the curve of her waist, the curves of her legs, the flimsy angle of her tutu, the curve of her long thin neck meeting her soft and yet solid jawline. Her hair is loose and falling on her front in gentle brown waves.

She is a goddess.

She is wearing a light grin on her face, and Changkyun salivates at the gentle curl of her plump lips. 

“Baby,” she stretches and immediately coos at Changkyun’s dopey smile, and then she reaches to hug him tightly-tightly, with her strong gymnast arms and flat gymnast chest. He hooks the arm with the bouquet behind her and unconsciously nuzzles into her neck, still a little damp from the performance. 

“You did so-so well tonight, words aren’t enough to express how I feel,” he mumbles, and when they separate, Dodo smiles happily-happily, her eyes twinkling. Courteously, Changkyun extends her the flowers, and she takes them into her beautiful frail hands and buries her pretty shiny nose in one of the buds.

“Okie-dokes, I’m leaving you to it,” Dior hums and spins around, flying back into the darkness they came from. 

“Come in,” Dodo quietly ushers, and Changkyun follows her into the dressing room like a little puppy on a leash. 

Well, not a lie found in _that_ statement. 

Dodo carefully lays the flowers on the table by the Hollywood mirrors. Makeup and accessories and whatnot are scattered around the surface, her clothes thrown all over the set of black sofas by the wall, and she stands in the middle of her handmade chaos, the graceful white swan, the princess of the lake. She is whiter than the white walls around them, and she is brighter than the LED lamps on the mirrors. 

Changkyun doesn’t dare yet sit on the sofa by the door.

Her feet are still clad in weary pointe shoes, the tips and heels stained grey. She is already very tall, taller than him, but the shoes make her legs look even longer, and the white tights are hugging them just right to highlight every little bulge of her slim muscles. Her delicious rounded calves. Her sharp knees and strong shapely thighs, thin but so rock-hard. Perfect to smash Changkyun’s head between them. 

In the quick seconds it takes her to walk into the depth of the dressing room, her back facing Changkyun, Changkyun kind of loses his mind. Dodo’s tutu bounces with her poised bird-like steps, and fake white feathers softly flutter in the air and lay back down, and Changkyun’s heart flutters with them. Her backside is exposed, bottoms of her white soft leotard visible underneath the costume. 

Her firm tiny bum, with dips on the side of each half and minuscule pouches of cheeks peeking beneath the material. 

Tutus are not supposed to be sexy. This particular tutu on this particular Dodo resumes the little tingles in Changkyun’s body and makes him tense up like a sore muscle, and he already knows Dodo won’t like what she’ll see. 

“Did you enjoy the ballet?” she asks, turning around with the same gentle smile. 

Changkyun sighs like a hopeless romantic in a teen romcom. “I told you, I loved it so much I don’t even know where to begin.” His hands come to his front, nervous fingers fiddling with each other. 

Dodo hums. “Start from the beginning then,” she offers and leans her hips against the table. Seeing Changkyun’s anxious expression, she sighs. “Come on, Kyunnie, I wanna hear it all, I thrive on feedback and praise, and yours is the most important to me.”

“Well,” Changkyun clears his throat. He doesn’t manage to stop his eyes from sliding down Dodo’s figure, and they stay on her legs, her white wiry legs, legs of the best ballerina in the whole wide world, if you ask Changkyun. “You look really-really good.”

Dodo quirks one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Look?”

Out of nowhere, her voice has grown a little too cold, dissatisfied. Suddenly, her eyes are no longer twinkling, and instead there is a frown to them, a look of confusion and disapproval as she searches Changkyun’s face for explanation to his anxiety. 

And then her gaze falls on the growing bulge in his pants.

She quirks her second eyebrow. “Did you?..”

Changkyun swallows audibly, not even trying to hide the shame about being caught. Dodo’s eyebrows edge up again, and something inside him flinches, and he nods barely visibly. Oh, he is about to get in trouble. He is already in trouble.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Changkyun,” Dodo takes a step forward, her ballerina legs pacing widely and a little to the side, feet facing outwards, “but you just got hard,” she emphasises every word with cold clarity, and every sound and syllable escaping her mouth cuts an incision in Changkyun’s taffy heart, “while watching me dance on stage,” her arms cross in front of her chest, “in a swan tutu?”

In his defence, Changkyun just swallows again. He can’t lie to Dodo, especially not when he is actually fucking hard in his pants and she is wearing a fucking swan tutu, and he just spent two hours gawking at her long, magnificent, astonishing, astounding, enchanting, ravishing, sensational, pulchritudinous, breath-taking, sumptuous swan legs, and he is doing the exact same thing now. 

Dodo takes another step forward. “Changkyun,” her voice is properly chilly now, and it surrounds Changkyun’s brain in hissing fog, clouds his self-awareness, carves a keyhole in his irises so that all he sees is Dodo’s tall figure and dark hard gaze. “On your knees, Changkyun,” she orders, and when Changkyun processes that it’s an order, a whimper balls in his throat.

He obeys and slowly sinks down. His knees hit the linoleum with a thud, and unconsciously or not, his hands automatically hide behind his back, wrists together, nails on one hand clawing the palm of the other.

Dodo stares at him, impenetrable. She takes another step towards him, and Changkyun’s eyes quickly flicker to her long-long legs, looking even longer from his perspective, and back to her face, understanding that she will be angry for peeking at her leotard trunks. Oh, the trunks are thick, but they are also so delicate, barely a layer on top of her thin tights and, and, and…

Oh, she is probably wearing her dancing thongs. Or maybe not.

Oh, Changkyun twitches so hard in his pants. 

Dodo’s eyebrows find no peace. “You dare come here, with your dumb flowers and in an expensive suit, and think you can disrespect my art – my passion – in your filthy, horny ways?” She towers over him, her gaze stern, her arms rigid, her lips tight. 

Changkyun is so, so guilty, and yet he still tries for his poor excuse of damage control. “No, I swear, I wasn't purposefully eyeing you like that––”

Suddenly, there is a painful pressure on his crotch. He gasps when Dodo raises her leg and with all her poised and petrifying power, presses her foot on his dick. Changkyun tries not to let the whimper escape, but the pointe shoe is firm and heavy against his poor little balls, and Dodo’s knee is sharp and dangerously close to his face, and her propped leg is strong and straight, and Changkyun almost hides under her tutu and snivels.

But Dodo won’t let him. She is now in full control of his entire life. And timid tears gather in the corners of his eyes. 

“What was it, you filthy pet?” she asks, and another whimper hikes up in his throat. 

“No, nothing,” he mumbles pitifully and sniffs, lowering his head but keeping his gaze up, looking at Dodo stealthily. 

Her foot starts carefully moving over his hardened length, her heel digging into his balls and rough pointe tip just rubbing past his tip. It hurts a little, a little but enough to make him shiver and want to slide into the touch, to increase the friction, but he won’t, because she won’t let him.

And he knows that she won’t let him, so he whines, quietly and pitifully, like a pathetic little baby he is. 

“Oh, how miserable,” Dodo says, and her foot presses harder, as if with the intention to smash his crotch like a bag of crisps. “Missed me so much you popped a boner at the mere sight of me,” she taunts, her top lip quivering. Angry flush mists the thin skin on her neck and chest, while Changkyun’s ears burn with humiliation, because, really, how could he?

Dodo just wanted one thing: his feedback on her flawless performance. What does she get instead? A whiny horny baby of a boyfriend. 

“You don’t even touch yourself on your own, do you?” Her voice is laced with contempt, and a piteous pout grows on Changkyun’s lips at her scornful tone. “Answer when you’re spoken to,” Dodo almost shouts and bends down, sending Changkyun into a fit of gasps and shivers. 

“No? No,” he replies weakly, voice small. 

Dodo pouts in mock pity. “Aw, what a sad life you must lead. No one to please you when Dodo’s out on practice, hm?” Changkyun nods, sniffing again. He really, really wants to get his dick out, he really wants his hands feeling up her leg as she works him at least through his underwear, but instead he is constrained and aching because he’s been such a stupid filthy boy. He gets what he deserves, and Dodo deserves better. She wouldn’t want him leaking onto her beautiful (though wrecked) pointe shoes. 

“Pathetic,” she says. “What will my girls think of me? That my boyfriend can’t even take care of himself?” She rubs him harsher, and Changkyun whines louder, and he only briefly wonders through the spasm of aching pleasure if the walls are thick enough to mute him out. “That my boyfriend is so lonely he thinks he can disrespect ballet for his own pleasure?”

Changkyun whimpers in lieu of ‘no’s, almost bouncing on his knees if it weren’t for Dodo’s foot literally pushing him further into the floor. “No, no, madam, I just think you’re the most beautiful and gorgeous woman in the world, my eyes were only glued to you, I was just,” he whimpers behind gritted teeth and shivers as the pointe shoe rubs over his tip, “enchanted by your beauty, I swear,” he pants out and then seals his lips to hold back any further embarrassing moans.

Dodo raises a sceptical eyebrow and halts. “So you weren’t disrespecting ballet when you were ogling me on stage?”

Changkyun desperately shakes his head and looks at her with pleading eyes, silently begging for the movements to continue. “No, no, I didn’t mean to, you just look,” he sniffs and exhales through his useless open mouth, “so-so good in this, so very beautiful.”

Dodo, in classic Dodo fashion, hikes up the second eyebrow and bends down. Her face is extremely inhumanly beautiful up close, and Changkyun feels undeserving sweating and panting right beneath her.

“Really, Goonie?” she drags, her face no longer angry but smug, like she’s finally started to gain great satisfaction from watching Changkyun fall apart from the mere pressure of her pointe shoe. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself now? You really think you deserve as much as cast a glance at me?” She straightens, and Changkyun’s bottom lip wobbles with uncommenced sobs. “I am the prima, the queen of ballet, and you’re a waste of a precious front row ticket. Aren’t you fucking ashamed of yourself?”

And he is ashamed, so ashamed that he dared disgrace his queen with his unworthy presence, so ashamed that he doesn’t stop his filthy hands on time before they fly to grip around the perfect white calf, so ashamed that he can’t go a second without whining, because all he can do is cry and beg for his madam’s mercy.

Dodo’s face grows harder again at the sudden clutch of clammy palms around her shin, but she lets Changkyun have his way for now. While he is gathering those sweet-sweet words of forgiveness. 

“Please, please, madam, I promise I’ll be good,” he hitches a sob, his lips are slick with spit, his nose is red and wet, he is flushed like a boiled lobster, and Dodo reacts to it with a roll of her eyes. 

The muscle under his palms is firm and thin, strained to rock-solid state, and Changkyun wants to pray on her legs, her body, her everything, because she is just so beautiful, so inhumanly beautiful it makes him scream. A fairy queen, a Greek goddess, a siren – she is unreal – god, Changkyun loves her so much. 

In juxtaposition to his words, he leans in and presses his face against her knee. The delicate fabric of her white tights stains with his tears. “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good,” he whispers and sniffs. Like an abandoned kitty, he rubs his cheek on the bone of her knee and suppresses another little whimper at the back of his throat. 

As if too disgusted to grab him by the hair, Dodo instead presses her pointer finger against his forehead and pushes him back. “What does the useless brat want, then?”

Changkyun’s heart starts hammering in his chest at the question, but Dodo’s face is still stern and annoyed, so he doesn’t dare smile at this demonstration of mercy. 

“Could I,” he swallows, looking up at her with pleading eyes, “have you? In my, in my mouth?” In tune to his request, his eyes lower to her crotch, happily exposed for the world with one of her legs raised under the ever-bouncy tutu. Even through the clothes, he just wants to have her even through the clothes, he would really, really like her to use him to her advantage if he is capable of making her feel any good.

“No,” comes Dodo’s stone-cold voice. Changkyun’s eyes flounce to meet hers. More saline fills his nose, his eyes, his throat. 

“No?” he whimpers. 

And then the pressure on his crotch increases. “No.” 

Changkyun sobs, his hands fly to wrap around Dodo’s pointe-clad ankle, his nails dig under the tight ribbon, but the pressure stays, painful pressure that Changkyun wants to _thrust_ into, painful pressuring pleasure that Dodo deigns to offer him after such a long time due to endless schedules. 

“But I’ll be so good,” he begs. His hands start shaking around the ankle, the vacuuming sensation rushing to his limbs like a swarm of bees. “I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be the best for you,” he mumbles deliriously, “I will, I will worship you.”

The pressure softens, and Changkyun realises his hands move in tune to the pointe rubbing idly up and down his clothed length, and Changkyun exhales with a silent moan. It’s almost tender now, the sensation all over the dick, it turns pleasing, and Changkyun shakes for a totally different reason. His hands find their rest around the calf again, flexed harder now that Dodo has her leg hovering over him with so much control.

She makes him delirious. She makes him yearn for every second that he is alive. “Oh, to have you…” he whispers mindlessly, fingers blindly stroking her leg, praying on it. “Have you, on me,” he breathes out, and the next second wishes he didn’t.

Dodo removes her foot completely and stands straight and tall above him, despise growing _sharper_ in her eyes, curling further in her lips. 

Changkyun folds his hands into fists so hard they tremble, and as he looks up at her his eyes sting with fresh tears. 

Dodo unfurls her gorgeous lean arms, bends a perfect ballerina wrist in his direction, long fingers and carefully cut nails appear right in front of him. “You want me,” she says, icy and fiery all at the same time, “to get your off with these hands? _These_ hands?”

And Changkyun wants nothing more but to kiss every millimetre of them, keep them safe and fragile wrapped up in silk or his own mouth, and he yet he can’t help but shudder at the memory of how these hands make him feel when they’re on in, in him, all over him.

He hastily kisses her knuckle, hoping that not a trace of drool accidentally tarnished her skin. “I don’t dare ask,” he murmurs in a trembling voice. “I just,” he hiccups, at loss of words and choking on his shedding tears. Dodo quirks an eyebrow. “I just want you so much,” he gulps back another sob, “that I don’t know what to do,” a hiccup, “with myself.”

For a second he imagines Dodo’s face softens, the sals under her eyes filling with just a tad bit of warmth. The gentle curl of a smile on her lips is so subtle Changkyun definitely imagines it.

“Pitiful, useless baby,” Dodo says. Changkyun sniffs in agreement. 

Then lifts her foot off the ground and throws it hard and iron on his shoulder. She does it with no effort, her knee high on the level of her chest and her thigh stretching just where Changkyun can almost touch it if he leans in. The heavy pointe bruises his shoulder. The disdainful stare cuts another incision in his heart. 

“Go on then, you cry-baby,” she says, condescending and mocking, and through this very incision Changkyun’s heart bursts into a fleshy bloody mash of joy. 

He lifts his trembling hands to her hips, holds her gently and peers into the flat line of the white trunks that’s covering her between her legs. He doesn’t bring her closer but reaches instead, hides under the tutu, presses his nose into the leotard, where the fabric is too dry and thick on the outside to really feel her. But she sure can feel him.

Changkyun brings his left hand to her crotch, carefully with two fingers slides from the top point to the very middle between Dodo’s legs. Does it again with a little more pressure. Feels the tiny bumps of her outer lips but that’s about it, the trunks too thick to feel her folds, too thick to let anything Changkyun does to really please her. He is helpless, and he wants so much, and he wants her, and she wants her to want him, but he is prohibited from doing more, and Dodo’s swan suit is not cooperating either.

He moves the lining part to the side. The white tights are thin, the fabric sticks to her skin not only with sweat but with her own arousal, he can see it and smell it and feel it when he drags his finger upwards from where her cunt is. He hears her breathing, he feels her thigh tense when he leans his head against it. Dodo is so strong, so elegant and dangerous like a bird, deadly in her beauty and ability to make Changkyun fall apart, and yet the pitiful tears on his blushing cheeks are her biggest weakness. 

Dodo will barely break a sweat after practicing thirty-two fouettés for her pas de deux, but will stain her underwear just watching Changkyun beat himself up for her love. 

He swipes his finger again, Dodo’s tights now damp, and he is salivating. Drooling like a dog that’s been deprived of treats for so long he dreamed about them in his sleep. Oh, how he strives for a simple command of ‘fetch!’. Oh, how he yearns for a little pat on the head for being a good boy.

“I don’t feel you being as desperate as you claim to be,” Dodo says, voice as controlled as before, and then Changkyun realises that since he can’t see her, it must work in the opposite direction too and she can’t see him either, so he considers it okay to shed another pitiful tear when he tastes her dampness with his tongue.

He gathers so much spit in his mouth it almost bubbles through his lips and sucks on her lips through the fabric, the very shy folds in between barely peeking through. Changkyun tries to work with his tongue like he would normally but instead all he can do is coat the fabric in spit and wait for it to seep through, stick to Dodo like a wet napkin so he could feel her as well as she could feel him. 

With his pointer finger Changkyun searches for her clit, rubs between her lips and shakes a little harder, the constricting pressure on his dick becoming unbearable with how _light_ it is, unsatisfying, only making his throb with too painful a desire, and for what exactly he can’t even decide. Dodo. Dodo in her entirety. With her beauty before his eyes and her legs cradling his head and her regal hands touching him at least somehow, and he is on his knees with none of it.

Changkyun’s frustrated to tears falling from the corners of his eyes, pitiful to drool coating not only Dodo’s tights but his mouth and his chin and even under his nose, aroused to the point arousal seems like such a childish word, and he is splitting apart. He sniffs and whimpers. His dick hurts. 

“Are you crying again?” Dodo asks coldly though with less edge, her icy composure slowly melting through the wet tights.

Hearing her voice makes Changkyun cry harder. “Can I please,” he hiccups in between licking over her clothed cunt, though what’s left of her almost transparent tights can barely be called clothing anymore, “touch? My, myself?”

Dodo breathes out with annoyance. “Hands down,” she commands. 

Changkyun puts his hands down. The tutu above him rustles. Dodo’s hands come to grip the sides of his head and shove his face closer into her crotch, and he whines breathlessly and then with all his might rubs his tongue on her clit, now so clear to him and sensitive under the wet fabric. He licks in hasty circular motions with the very tip, whimpers so desperately against her cunt with want he can’t satisfy, and at that Dodo’s thighs jerk again.

She keeps his head steady, nails digging into his scalp with exasperation and starts gently, like the swan she is, but with persistence rolling against his tongue.

“Useless brat,” she exhales. Changkyun whimpers in agreement. “So fucking shameful, only good for being used.” Changkyun’s shoulder hurts, his dick hurts, his knees hurt too, but his pride? He doesn’t have one when he is with Dodo, it can’t hurt where it doesn’t exist, but his chest aches for being good. He needs to atone himself before her, needs to prove he is more than just a weeping baby, hopes that if Dodo lets him make her come then maybe he’ll hear a single word of praise. 

Dodo breathes out a very quiet, dulcet moan, and Changkyun believes only in female supremacy.

The right leg she’s been standing on stutters, the muscles from her ankle to her thigh tense, and her hips twitch too. “Fuck,” she says and scratches down Changkyun’s face before pushing him away. He swings backwards, shocked at the surge of strength, choked on Dodo and his own tears, and then sees her move away.

She looks down on him, still condescending, though her cheeks are now painted in soft rosy glow. Her tutu bends as she reaches down with one hand, swipes her finger over her covered clit and inhales sharply but quietly, barely a hiss. Changkyun prays on her. Aches for her.

“Get on the couch,” she says. With another sniff and a few more droplets of tears, Changkyun scrambles himself on his feet, his knees cramping immediately, his hips unable to straighten with the pain in his groin. He falls backwards on the couch, with regretfully too much impact, and his ass slaps on the hard pillows. He wouldn’t be surprised if ballerinas were sitting on wood for health benefits. 

But he has no time to even think about it, not when he is still spasming with insane desire to come and especially not when Dodo leads her hands back to undo the hooks on her swan bodice and spreads the sides apart. Slides the skin-coloured straps off her shoulders. Tugs the tutu down and then lets the costume fall to her feet.

She is left in nothing but her white tights and her white leotard trunks, now fixed properly over her crotch. Nothing. Nothing on the top. Only her long curls fall over one of her miniature, flat breasts.

Dodo’s long arms fall to the sides, elegantly, as she steps out of her tutu and takes a step towards the couch. Changkyun hyperventilates. Even when she strides her legs flex with lean muscles, her pointe shoes softly and yet threateningly tap on the floor. Changkyun wonders if her feet hurt. Wonders if her feet hurt more than he is hurting right now.

He decides that, probably, and wants to cry even more.

“No dicks out in my dressing room,” Dodo warns. Her knees touch Changkyun’s. He is looking up at her, the light behind framing her like a goddess, and with the minimal shadows he can count every bone of her chest and ribs, can trace every line of her hard stomach, can caress the hip bones poking under the trunks, and he also wonders how could he ever believe she was his.

Dodo’s knee slides between his thighs and prods his balls. Her arms cage his head as she grips the headrest of the couch. Changkyun can’t look away from the flame in her irises that broke the ice freezing them before. 

And then her knee presses hard against him and he sobs, wordlessly begs for her to help him. 

“You have absolutely no stamina, huh,” Dodo ponders, rubbing her knee on his length. Changkyun shakes his head vigorously, no, he could never be as strong as her, could never endure as much pain as she does, could never have as much perseverance as she has to be able to train for a god awful amount of hours every day to become the best ballerina in the world.

He can barely survive a few days without her touch.

“Come, right now,” Dodo orders, and he tries, he tries so hard, the pressure against him so painfully pleasant, as if squeezing the release out of him.

She is so close to him, and he is very close to release, and Changkyun wants to be the best for her, but his arms fly to wrap around her waist and his spine curls with a spasm, he presses his face into his stomach and definitely loses all his chances to be called a good boy, but she doesn’t push him away. He cries into his skin, her knee moves fast over his clothed length, and with a pitiful thrust he comes. 

Hard. 

Untouched, inside his underwear, convulsing into every splash of orgasm that washes over him from head to toe. He sees nothing but feels everything, magnetic tugging at the very core of his being, a lump of saltine in his throat, his clogged nose, his shuddering breath against warm skin. It’s still so tight even after he comes, but it’s easier. It’s bearable. 

It’s relieving.

It takes him a while to calm down and dig his way out of his subby misery. There are hands gently carding through his hair on the back of his head and fond shushing somewhere above him. His hands start perceiving reality first, his fingers stroke the round bumps of Dodo’s spine, and then there is appreciation. For how despite her outward fragility, she is able to break him in half, and then every half into more halves, and then the remaining halves into mercilessly chopped pieces.

Changkyun breathes out. The tickling sensation makes Dodo’s stomach twitch. 

She plants a tender kiss on the crown of his head and then he moves away and looks up. Her eyes warm, her smile fluffy. Still feeling tiny, Changkyun regrets not being a good boy but hopes he can prove himself better when they get home. 

He leans into the kiss but shies away from it a second later, afraid he drooled too much, afraid to taint her even more than he already did. 

Dodo chuckles, as if reading his mind. “Don’t be silly,” she says and kisses him again, smooches him nicely and lovingly and then lets go. He slumps on the couch, melts into a pile of goo as Dodo straightens and approaches her vanity table. Changkyun can at last shamelessly admire her tiny, muscular butt. 

She sits down, does her typical Dodo things – twists her head left and right, grabs her teeny-tiny boobies, bounces them a little with no luck, and takes the comb to brush her hair. Despite the familiarity, Changkyun feels that dark little cloud of insecurity crowding over him, and he needs to know for sure.

“You’re not actually that mad, right?”

In the mirror, Dodo light-heartedly rolls her eyes and turns to him. “Changkyun,” she starts, her tone half-amused, half-disappointed, like Changkyun should’ve known better. “There is a reason I reserved front row tickets for three nights this week for you.” Changkyun spreads in a smile, his legs jerk a little in delight. Dodo turns back to the mirror to admire herself. “Besides, I know I’m hot,” she mutters to herself.

Changkyun feels very-very small, and his happiness is unconfined. He fiddles with his thumbs. “You’re beautiful.”

Dodo turns to him again, her lips lifting in a smile of her own. “Call me beautiful again?” she asks, her voice genuine with almost a certain vulnerability, like that of a swan.

“You’re beautiful,” Changkyun repeats, words coming off his tongue easily.

Proud and inspired, Dodo smiles in satisfaction, and her eyes are back on her reflection. “That’s right.”

The next night of the performance Changkyun is tempted to not pay attention to the storyline on purpose.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!!! one feedback equals one pair of pointe shoes for dodo bc god she needs them 
> 
> im on twt @chaeleggiewon :3


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